


I don't care if you don't want me.

by wolfintestines



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: HPFT, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-28
Updated: 2016-05-28
Packaged: 2018-07-10 18:17:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6999274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfintestines/pseuds/wolfintestines
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Title from Nina Simone's "I Put A Spell On You"</p><p>"I put a spell on you because you're mine. I love you, I love you, I love you."</p>
            </blockquote>





	I don't care if you don't want me.

Autumn’s leaves are shriveling up, and their vibrant colors are turning dull brown. Biting breezes nip at everyone, so the rendezvous by the Great Lake are ending, the sweaters are being brought out, and the Heating Charms are being cast. The true start of fall at Hogwarts starts close to the end of actual fall, when Alice Longbottom starts to brew batches of her infamous pumpkin rum; her knack for Potions certainly assists with alcoholic brewing. Her black market earns her a pretty Galleon. The excitement for the holidays is pulsing through everyone. Soon, winter will come, which means winter break is coming.

“I fucking hate winter,” Albus grumbles after a chill causes him to shiver.

I reply, “Stop being a pissbaby.”

“You’re always pissed when I call you a pissbaby about constantly complaining about how precious Louis won’t ask you out, so you are doomed to be forever alone, and yet you call me a pissbaby for anything under the moon.”

“You’re quite an arse.”

“You’re the arse.” Albus then looks down at his parchment and asks, “What can you tell me about Drought of Peace?” 

“Working on the Potions profile?”

“Yeah.”

“Draught of Peace reduces anxiety and agitation, but it may also cause drowsiness. It is the colour turquoise-assuming it is done correctly-and the vapour is silver. Ingredients are powdered moonstone, syrup of hellebore, powdered porcupine quills, and powdered unicorn horn. The level of difficulty is advanced.” I then drone about the brewing instructions, and Albus only jots down the key directions. When I start explaining the history of the potion and the potioneer that invented the Draught of Peace, Albus is only half-listening, but it’s understandable after doing a brutal Transfiguration essay.

“I’ll go and make you a cup of tea in the kitchen,” Albus offers when he finishes the Potions profile. He immediately leaves the Slytherin Dungeon, and I am all alone. Many Slytherins do not hang out in our common room since the green light is dim and the place comes across as cold to many people, but Albus and I light scented candles so that we can do homework here. The candles we use are always seasonal; the ones we’re using now are pumpkin spice, and I breath in its scent. Wizarding candles have much stronger scents than Muggle ones, and this is why my first experience with Muggle candles was my last. Wizarding candles may cost more, but I’m able and willing to splurge.

My focus shifts to the windows. I cannot imagine why people hate the Slytherin Dungeon. It is submerged in a natural aquarium where people can view all sorts of aquatic magical creatures. The other Houses do not fall asleep to the lull of the Great Lake’s water, but Slytherin does. When the Giant Squid taps the window, it’s a magical moment. Tonight, it seems the Giant Squid is dormant.

“A cuppa for you,” Albus announces when he returns from the kitchen. He is levitating two cups of tea with his wand. He snatches one cup for himself, and he directs the other one to move enough to me so that I can grab it.

“Thank you.”

I sip the tea. Although Albus is skilled with brewing tea, this cup of tea seems richer and bolder than usual. I down the tea fairly quickly, even though it slightly burns my throat.

“What did you think of it?” Albus asks.

“The best cup I’ve ever had from you. What did you do different?”

Albus shrugs. “I don’t know. I think you should get around to asking your Louis lad out.”

“Ugh,” I groan. “You know, Albus, I don’t believe in doing shit I’m not capable of doing.” However, I suddenly feel more willing to ask Louis out.

“Just take a crack at it. You guys are friends with benefits, so he clearly doesn’t hate you.”

“He’s a playboy,” I point out.

“No shit, Sherlock. That doesn’t keep you from fawning over him day and night, though. Why not just go ahead and get it over him? Best case scenario, you snag the boyfriend of your dreams. Worst case scenario, you’re kind of strangers and things are awkward. Big fucking deal. What’s the point of waiting for it to fizzle out? Scorpius, strike while it’s hot.”

“I’ll do it for a bottle of pumpkin rum.”

“Tea and support are not good enough for you?”

“Bribe me with a little more, Al.”

Albus offers, “You’ll get a bottle of pumpkin rum when you come back. It’s good for either outcome. What do you say to that, Scorpius?”

“Deal. You’re one hell of a bloke, Al. I do have one more request, though.”

“Lay it on me.”

“If I die of embarrassment, please bury me in a birch coffin and make sure you bring a bouquet of pansies to my grave every holiday. And I want The Magitated to play their song, ‘Pathetic Crush’ played at my funeral.”

Albus attempts to hide a smile. “Fine, but you’re a dramatic arse. Now get the fuck out of here and drag your ass to the Ravenclaw Tower.”

-

 

Ravenclaw’s bronze eagle door knocker asks me, “I’m tall when I’m young, and I’m short when I’m old. What am I?”

“A person with a severe osteoporosis.”

“Incorrect.”

“Can I have another crack at it?” I request

“No, you may not.”

“Can I have another riddle?”

“No. you may not.”

“Can I exchange a riddle? You know, I give you a riddle, and if you can’t get it, you have to let me in.”

“No. you may not.”

I groan. “Bloody hell, I’m trying my best, Mr. Eagle Door Knocker.”

“I am a female.”

“I’m not a Ravenclaw.”

Irritated, the door knocker gives in to my persistence. “Well, now that I’m considering it more, your answer does suit the riddle, even though it’s not the answer I seek. I rarely consider Muggle conditions as possible answers, but based on my knowledge, it applies to the riddle in some cases. Here you go, determined one.” The door flings open, and I enter the Ravenclaw Common Room.

The Common Room is circular and decked out with elaborate details. Mahogany bookcases house books on every subject, silks drape the windows, and the dark blue carpet looks plush. The star-speckled ceiling garners most of my attention. It takes me a moment to divert my attention to the groups of Ravenclaws huddled up, apparently studying or winding down.

I approach a group of third or fourth years so I can ask them, “Do any of you happen to know where Louis is?”

“Head up to the dorms,” a dark-skinned girl guides.

“He doesn’t have anyone up in his room,” a pale boy chimes in.

I reply, “Thanks.”

I take the stairs, which are separated by a massive marble statue of Rowena Ravenclaw. The spiral staircases are not only breath-taking for their gorgeous architecture, but for the laborious process required to reach the seventh year dorms. As I huff my way up the stairs, for some reason, I’m no longer concerned about being rejected by Louis. I simply want to hope for the best and confess my love for him.

Eventually, I step into the boys’ seventh year dorms. They are much simpler than the Common Room and looks like the Slytherin dorms, save for the color scheme. Louis is chatting with Gary Boot, and they are lying on their beds. Louis looks up me. “Hey, Scorp, you’ve come to see me?”

“Louis, you hit the nail on the head.” I say. “Can we leave here so we can talk?”

Louis seems concerned as he checks his pocket watch. “Oh, we don’t have time to head out of here. Curfew ends in a minute. Gary, do you mind stepping out for a moment?”

“Nah,” Gary replies. He lumbers out of the dorm to provide privacy for Louis and me.

Louis stands up to come closer to me. “So, what’s up?”

When I feel certain that Gary is out of earshot, I start, “Would you be willing to be a one-person man if you were to actually date someone?”

Louis continues, “If I were to ever get in an actual relationship with someone, whether I would chose polygamy or monogamy would depend on the person I’m with, really. I’m assuming he or she doesn’t cheat on me.”

“Yeah. Of course you two would be equals.”

“Who are you asking for?” Louis asks. He seems to understand why I am in his dorm asking him about his commitment in a hypothetical relationship. He’s just not sure enough to tell me he knows I’m asking for myself.

My words spill out. “Me. I have to admit I’ve had a crush on you for a while. You may not want me, but I’ll be here waiting if you change your mind.”

Louis considers my words for a moment, allowing the meaning to sink in. Finally, he tells me, “I was wondering when you were going to tell me.”

“You knew?”

“I’ve always known. I believe your crush on me originated that weekend at Hogsmeade last spring when we found that Muggleborn man and he Apparated us to a Muggle countryside nearby that he suggested we check out. When we went in that old abandoned castle and explored it together, you looked at me in a different light. Somehow, something clicked that day. I believe you fell in love with me at that day. Then we started fucking occasionally, and I knew you were desperate.”

“You understand me so well. That’s part of the reason why I fell for you. You’re a perceptive person, and you manage to comprehend everyone so well, but you especially understand me.”

“You really want to be my boyfriend?”

“Yes, I do.” I step even closer to Louis and lean in. “Do you mind if I kiss you?”

Louis murmurs, “Don’t wait to kiss me.”

My lips gravitate to his. Unlike our typical kisses, this one is more sensual than hormone-fueled. His teeth gently graze my bottom lip occasionally, and his tongue embraces mine. A stronger current of excitement courses through me as we kiss. My kiss with Louis is much better than the awkward, sloppy wet kiss I had with Dean Finnigan under the bleachers at the Quidditch pitch back in our third year. This one tops the other kisses Louis and I have shared. Louis and I are finally on the same page. 

Finally, we pull apart. Louis remarks, “I’d say we’ll be spending some time kissing each other.” He hesitates for a moment, but he says, “I’m shocked you admitted to having feelings for me. You are that sort of person to hold back until your feelings die.”

“I am,” I agree.

"Well, I guess I should've told you I was into you, but I figured maybe you became my friend benefits so you get it out of you, you know?"

"Yeah. This time, I decided to take my chances and let you know I want something more serious."

Louis marks me with a love bite. I think of the pride I will have when I tell people I’m officially with Louis Weasley. He kisses me on the lips again, but this is only a peck on the lips. He has never kissed me like that before.

I tell him, “Albus is supposed to procure me a bottle of Alice’s pumpkin rum. You should come by my dorm tomorrow night.”

“That would be an excellent way to cap off a Friday. I’m game. Scorpius, feel free to stay the night here to avoid the risk of being caught by some self-righteous Prefect."

“Thanks. but I believe I’ll just take the risk and see if I can slip off into my dorm without getting in trouble.” I only want to leave so that Louis doesn’t have to witness me revelling in my success.

“Oh. Goodnight and good luck, Scorpius.”

“Thank you, and goodnight.”

As I head out of the dorm and down the stairs, I feel as if I’m in a dreamlike haze since a foreign hurricane of various emotions is inside of me. I’m nervous, shocked, pleased, and skeptical. I’m only skeptical because I am not used to luck being so gracious to me, but tonight, luck is on my side. As I anticipate recounting my talk with Louis to Al, I realize the emotions whirling inside of me are components of amazement.


End file.
